


Carry On

by track_04



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Drinking, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Survival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-07-28 12:41:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7640566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/track_04/pseuds/track_04
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes soul searching requires being stuck on an empty space ship in the middle of nowhere with someone you used to hate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Carry On

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MissHammer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissHammer/gifts).



> This takes place in a slightly altered timeline where Hayes doesn't die and the crew have contact with the Ikaarans outside of the alternate timeline in E^2. I also went with "Jay" for Hayes's name, since it could presumably be short for either Jeremiah or Joss. Warning for non-graphic descriptions of serious injury.
> 
> To my recipient, thank you for requesting this pairing! I'm so happy I got to write it and I hope you like the results! And as always, a huge thanks to my beta for helping me whip this into shape.

Malcolm woke to the smell of smoke and a sharp, stabbing pain in his right leg.

"Lieutenant Reed."

He felt a hand on his shoulder and opened his eyes to find Hayes crouched over him, a gash on his forehead and blood running down the side of his face and neck, staining the collar of his uniform.

"You're bleeding," Malcolm said.

"So are you." Hayes moved up beside Malcolm's head and reached beneath his shoulders. "This is going to hurt."

"What--" Malcolm started, words dying when Hayes lifted him into a sitting position, jostling his leg and sending a wave of pain through him. He swore and groped behind him, trying to grab hold of one of Hayes's arms. "Stop."

"We need to get out of here and seal the room off so the fire doesn't spread to other parts of the ship." Hayes ignored Malcolm's attempts to push him away and gripped him beneath the armpits, dragging him backwards through the room, bumping into a stack of storage crates as they went.

Hayes hissed and curled his hands into fists, digging his nails into his palm. "Please try to avoid running me into things, Major."

"Doing my best, sir." Hayes' voice had that not-quite-sarcastic tone that he seemed to reserve just for Malcolm. Something about the familiarity of it was reassuring, even if it didn't do much to lessen Malcolm's current desire to punch him in the face.

Hayes managed not to run into anything else as he pulled Malcolm through the doorway and out into the corridor. He settled him against the wall in what Malcolm thought was meant to be a comfortable position, and then hurried back to seal the room behind them. 

Malcolm used the chance to look down at his leg finally, wincing when he saw the hunk of metal embedded in his thigh. It was twisted and black around the edges where it disappeared into his flesh, but he could still make out the beginning of a serial number.

"Is that a piece of our shuttlepod in my leg?"

Hayes crouched in front of him, his face grim. "Afraid so."

"Well, I'd appreciate it if you could remove it."

"I'm working on it." Hayes reached down to rip open the thigh of Malcolm's pants, giving them both a better view of the damage. 

It wasn't the worst injury Malcolm had ever seen, and it probably wasn't even the worst injury he'd ever received, but looking at it still made him feel vaguely ill. He swallowed heavily and looked away. "This is going to be unpleasant, isn't it?"

"Probably," Hayes said, sounding almost sorry. He was silent for a long moment and Malcolm was half-afraid that he was just going to rip the metal out of his leg and hope for the best; luckily, Hayes had more sense than Malcolm's pain-addled mind wanted to give him credit for. "I'm going to see what supplies are in the sickbay."

He walked away before Malcolm could say anything, leaving him to stare at the wall and try not to give in to the urge to look at his leg again. He could hear the computer announcing something overhead, but the words were in a language he didn't recognize, something soft and sibilant and vaguely soothing. He wished Hoshi were there to translate.

Hayes returned what seemed like an eternity later, carrying a hypospray and wearing his usual slightly disapproving expression. He knelt in front of Malcolm and pressed the hypospray against the side of his neck.

There was a click and a slight sting, and then Malcolm felt the injection start to work, making his limbs feel pleasantly numb. He let out a long, relieved sigh and looked down at his thigh again, watching as Hayes pulled a hand scanner out of his belt and waved it around the edges of the wound.

"It looks terrible," Malcolm said to no one in particular, his words starting to slur around the edges.

Hayes's hand stilled and the scanner let out a series of beeps, low and ominous. He tucked it back into his belt and reached for Malcolm's face, tilting it upwards and leaning in to check his pupils. "I've seen worse."

"So have I." Malcolm watched Hayes pull away, feeling disconnected. "I think you may have given me too many painkillers."

"You'll appreciate it later," Hayes said. "I need to remove this from your leg. I doubt you want to feel that."

"No, I'd rather not." Malcolm watched blearily as Hayes lifted the hypospray to give him another dose. He closed his eyes and let his mind start to drift. "I think I may pass out."

"That's probably a good idea," Hayes said, voice sounding far away.

Malcolm started to answer but found he didn't have the energy, and let himself slip sideways into nothingness instead.

\--

When Malcolm woke up again, his mouth tasted like ash and his skin felt sticky and unpleasant. There was a thin blanket covering him and he pushed it away, feeling a bit better as it slid onto the floor, leaving his legs bare to the cool air of the room. The ceiling above him was the standard dull grey that most starships seemed to favor, but it was just off enough that he knew it didn't belong to Enterprise.

He managed to lift his head enough to survey his surroundings--the rows of equipment and the faint smell of antiseptic marked the room as a sickbay, although smaller and lacking the plethora of animals that he'd grown accustomed to on Enterprise.

He felt a twinge in his leg and looked down to see an unfamiliar scar, an angry red line that disappeared over the curve of his thigh. He lifted a hand and pressed against it, gingerly, trying to assess the damage underneath.

"I wouldn't prod it too much. I fixed as much as I could, but it's going to have to do the rest on its own." Hayes was seated off to one side of the room, a bruise coloring one side of his face and a dark stain on the collar of his uniform. 

Malcolm let his hand drop back to the bed and cleared his throat before he spoke, voice rough with disuse. "I suppose this means I didn't imagine the piece of shuttle buried in my leg."

"You didn't." Hayes stood and took a glass off a side table, filling it with water and bringing it over to the bed to offer it to him. 

Malcolm's hand shook as he reached up to take it, and Hayes steadied it with his own. Malcolm nodded his thanks as they lifted the cup to his lips together, trying not to empty it too quickly. When he'd had his fill, he wiped a hand across his mouth and settled back onto the bed with a grimace. "Whose ship is this?"

"The Ikaarans," Hayes said, setting the now-empty cup on a nearby table. "We answered a distress call from one of their delivery vessels."

Malcolm had a vague memory of the distress call, but after that the details got a bit hazy. "I assume our rescue efforts didn't go as planned?"

"There was no rescue. The ship was empty when we got here."

Malcolm frowned. "Then what happened to our shuttle?"

"There was another ship waiting for us--probably the ones who faked the distress call. They took out our shuttle, then attacked Enterprise."

"And the rest of our team?"

"They managed to beam everyone else back to Enterprise."

"That's something to be grateful for, at least." Malcolm took the opportunity to really look at Hayes, took in the too-stiff set of his shoulders and the new scar on his forehead, the way he looked worn around the edges. "I don't suppose we have any way off this ship, do we?"

"Not at the moment." Hayes met Malcolm's eyes. "The ship that attacked us opened some sort of wormhole when they ran. We were too close and got pulled through with them."

"And Enterprise?"

"Still where we left her, as far as I know. I've tried contacting them, but I haven't gotten an answer. We could be hundreds of light years from their current location."

"We could move the ship to a different location, try from there."

Hayes shook his head. "The engines are gutted. Looks like someone decided to take what they needed for scrap. We're lucky the life support and other basic systems seem to still be working."

"So, we're trapped here for the foreseeable future, then."

"It looks that way, sir."

Malcolm draped an arm across his forehead. "I suppose this is where all that survival training comes in handy."

"I hope so," Hayes said, leaning over to pick the blanket up from the floor. He laid it across Malcolm's legs, then moved back toward the chair in the corner. "You should get some more sleep. We can work out the details after you've had more time to heal."

Part of Malcolm wanted to argue and insist that he'd rather work on the problem at hand than allow himself to be coddled, but he found he was too tired to bother, which was probably the first sign that Hayes was right. He closed his eyes and tried not to think too much about the rest of their team or the distant throb in his leg, or to wonder if the Enterprise was still out there somewhere, safe and looking for them. 

It was a long time before he managed to fall back to sleep.

\--

Their situation didn't look any less bleak in the morning, but Malcolm hadn't really expected it to. They were still trapped on an alien ship in an as of yet undetermined part of space. They still had no idea where Enterprise was and whether or not they were looking for them. They didn't even know if their crewmates believed there were any survivors to search for in the first place.

Despite all that, Malcolm found himself unwilling to let his usual pessimism take hold; Enterprise was still out there, somewhere, and as long as they had a chance to make it back, he was willing to cling to any small sliver of hope.

The way that Major Hayes disappeared out into the corridor to search the rest of the ship for supplies, his expression calm but determined, only cemented Malcolm's unwillingness to give in and let himself fixate on the worst case scenarios lingering in the back of his mind. There were things to be done and he intended to help with as many of them as he could, even if his leg currently prevented him from doing more than limping around the sickbay, inspecting equipment and taking stock of their medical supplies.

Hayes reappeared around lunch time, wearing a new shirt and with a bag slung over one shoulder. He took one look at Malcolm and frowned, motioning him toward one of the benches lining the far wall of the room.

Malcolm sat down and stretched his injured leg out in front of him, wincing at the way he could feel the muscle start to tighten. He pressed his hand against it, rubbing absently and hoping that it wouldn't make it difficult for him to sleep.

"You should be careful not to overdo it," Hayes said, not bothering with small talk or niceties. He slipped the bag off his shoulder and took a seat on the bench beside Malcolm, settling the bag on the floor by his feet.

"I'm not much use to anyone lying in bed all day."

Hayes pulled a package that Malcolm assumed contained rations and a bottle of faintly purple liquid from the bag and offered them with a frown. "You're not much good to anyone if you don't let your leg heal properly."

"It's fine," Malcolm said, pushing down his twinge of annoyance. He opened up the package and peered inside, pulling it away again when the smell hit him, making his eyes water. "Are you sure this is safe to eat?"

"I scanned them and there's nothing harmful to humans." Hayes held his package in front of him as he opened it, letting the worst of the smell air out before he brought it closer. "I tried some earlier. It tastes better than it smells."

"That's not very reassuring," Malcolm said and reached inside his own pouch, pulling out a handful of something that looked and felt like a cross between beef jerky and dried seaweed. He held his breath and shoved it in his mouth, grimacing at the way it dissolved into a thick, powdery substance against his tongue. Hayes was right--it didn't taste as bad as it smelled, primarily because it didn't really taste like anything. The texture and smell were still enough to make it more than a little unpleasant, though.

Malcolm swallowed and reached for his bottle, relieved when he took a sip and it tasted like water with a faint hint of citrus. "Compared to that, Starfleet rations are positively delightful."

"I never thought you'd be a picky eater," Hayes said, sounding faintly amused.

"I don't think disliking something that smells like gym socks that have been shut up in a bag for a week and tastes like dust makes me a picky eater." Malcolm watched Hayes finish off his meal without so much as a twitch and sighed, eyeing the package in his hands distastefully. "If we make it back to Enterprise, remind me to tell the captain not to accept any dinner invitations from the Ikaarans."

"I don't think I'll need to remind you."

Malcolm took another mouthful and did his best to swallow it as quickly as possible. "You're probably right."

Hayes disappeared again after they finished their meal, leaving Malcolm alone with a new set of clothing and nothing to keep him busy or entertain him. He was tempted to venture out further into the ship, to give himself a better idea of exactly what they were dealing with, but his leg already ached just from walking around the small sickbay, so it didn't seem worth the risk. He was loathe to admit it even to himself, but he knew that Hayes was right and he wouldn't be much good to anyone if he managed to make his leg worse.

He dressed himself and sat back down on the bench, already missing the muted colors and crisp lines of his uniform--the Ikaarans seemed to have a preference for colors that were a bit too bright for his tastes. He smoothed the shirt across his chest and leaned against the back of the bench, deciding that the best course of action was to rest for awhile. He didn't realize he'd fallen asleep until he felt a hand on his shoulder, shaking him awake again.

"Sorry." Hayes pulled his hand back to himself and took a step back. "Are you alright?"

Malcolm started to answer with an automatic yes, but stopped when he tried to move his leg and it felt like someone had shoved a hand inside his thigh and twisted. He let out a breath and tried to rub away some of the stiffness, his hand shaking a little from the pain.

"I think you may have been right about putting too much strain on my leg."

Hayes walked away, and Malcolm thought he probably deserved that, even if it was a bit of a childish response. It wasn't until he felt something against his neck and heard a familiar click that he realized that Hayes had gone for a hypospray and hadn't just abandoned him to his suffering.

"Thank you." Malcolm winced as Hayes helped him lift his bad leg so he was stretched out along the bench, once again left staring up at the blandly colored ceiling. His fingers and toes started to tingle and he turned his head toward Hayes, frowning. "What exactly did you give me?"

"Painkillers." Hayes knelt on the floor beside the bench and rested his hands against Malcolm's thigh. He started to prod the muscle gently, stealing glances at Malcolm's face after each movement of his fingers. 

Malcolm winced as Hayes's fingers found a particularly tender spot. "How did you manage to find painkillers? Everything here is labelled in Ikaaran."

"I scanned the ship's stock for something equivalent to what Phlox keeps on Enterprise, and then checked those results for anything that might not be safe for human physiology."

Malcolm arched an eyebrow. "Hand scanners aren't exactly made with that kind of use in mind. What if you'd missed something?"

"There weren't really any other options," Hayes said, and had the decency to at least sound a bit sheepish. 

"I can't say that's entirely reassuring, but I probably would have done the same in your place." Malcolm curled his hands into fists and uncurled them again slowly, trying to keep his mind focused on the conversation.

"I'll take that as a compliment." Hayes sounded almost amused, and Malcolm turned his head just in time to catch a fleeting smile.

"You should," Malcolm said, sighing softly when Hayes's hands started to knead carefully at his leg. "I know we haven't always seen eye-to-eye, Major, but I do trust you in this."

"Thank you, sir." Hayes's hands stilled for a second before they started to work at Malcolm's leg again, touch gentle but insistent. "I'll try not to inadvertently kill you with alien narcotics."

Malcolm laughed. "Good. See that you don't."

That time, the smile on Hayes's face was less fleeting.

\--

Three days was apparently the limit on the amount of time that Malcolm could stand to spend hobbling around the ship's tiny sickbay, doing next-to-nothing. He imagined that he might have been able to manage a bit longer if they'd been on Enterprise and he'd had the doctor and his constant chatter to keep him company. Being alone on a ship with Major Hayes was a different story.

Hayes spent most of the day in other parts of the ship, taking stock of the available supplies, gathering rations for the both of them, and trying to figure out a way to contact Enterprise. When he was in the sickbay, they were both busy attending to their more pressing needs, like sleeping or eating their allotment of horrible Ikaaran rations or trying to figure out a way to boost their comm signal. The only time they really managed much of a conversation was when Hayes massaged Malcolm's leg for him, and Malcolm always seemed to have trouble staying awake for that.

At first, Malcolm appreciated the fact that Hayes didn't seem to expect anything more than companionable silence, but it wasn't long before it started to wear on him. He'd grown used to the noise and chatter on Enterprise, to Trip or Hoshi or Travis always being there to share a meal and talk about their day. If they made it back to Enterprise, he was going to remember this and remind himself to appreciate the company, even if it meant enduring Trip's ability to talk endlessly about nothing at all.

Mostly, the silences reminded him of how much of a stranger Hayes was and how little they interacted when it wasn't a required part of their jobs. It almost made him miss the animosity that had colored the beginning of their acquaintance; at least his suspicions had made him a little more willing to push things. That was vastly more interesting than their current polite indifference.

Hayes was sitting silently in the chair across the room, sorting through a crate of discarded engine components that he'd found stored in one of the empty crew quarters. Malcolm had no idea what Hayes was looking for, or even if he had enough technical knowledge to know it when he found it; he suspected it might just be the major's way of distracting himself and keeping busy enough to fill in some of the empty hours between now and when they went to sleep. Which was all well and good, but that didn't do much on Malcolm's end of things, and the thought left Malcolm wishing he had an excuse to start yelling at him.

He spent more time trying to think of one than he probably should have, but wasn't able to come up with anything that wouldn't make him look like he was losing his mind. He decided he might as well try to attempt conversation instead. 

"We're missing it, Major."

Hayes paused and looked up at him in confusion. "Missing what?"

"Movie night," Malcolm said, shifting his leg and trying to find a more comfortable position. "Today's Tuesday."

Hayes nodded and reached for the crate again. For a moment Malcolm thought that might be the end of the conversation, but Hayes managed to surprise him when he shut the lid and sat back in his chair, fixing his attention on Malcolm instead. "Do you usually go?"

"Yes. Commander Tucker can be rather insistent about it." Malcolm smiled a little. "I don't believe I've ever seen you there."

"My men are usually there," Hayes said, as if that was a proper explanation. He picked up on some of the confusion in Malcolm's expression and continued, "It's a bit hard to relax and enjoy down time with your commanding officer there."

"I suppose so." There was an awkward pause and then Malcolm barrelled onward. "But you'll be happy to know that your men are always the picture of civility. Alvarez and Cole usually sit in front of Commander Tucker and myself, and they've never so much as given the commander a rude look when he inevitably starts his running commentary halfway through the movie."

Hayes actually laughed at that, and Malcolm was a little surprised by how much he enjoyed the sound. "I'll have to remember to give them a commendation when we get back to Enterprise."

"See that you do." Malcolm didn't bother correcting him that it was _if_ they got back to Enterprise, not _when_. "Maybe you should consider attending one to judge their behavior for yourself."

"Maybe," Hayes said. 

Malcolm wasn't sure he believed that Hayes was actually considering it, just like he wasn't sure he believed that they'd manage to find a way out of this mess and back to Enterprise, but for the moment, he enjoyed pretending that he did. "I'll save you a seat."

"I'd appreciate that."

That time, the silence that fell seemed a bit less oppressive.

\--

Two days later and Malcolm had absolutely had his fill of both the sickbay and the small stretch of corridor outside it. He'd started to venture a bit further, wanting to stretch his legs and work on rebuilding a bit of his stamina, but he had yet to explore most of the ship. He didn't intend to continue confining himself to such a small area any longer.

The morning started as usual, the both of them forcing down their morning rations and making awkward small talk, but when Hayes tossed out his empty wrapper and stood to leave, Malcolm stood and followed him. He limped out the door and into the hallway, making it past the doors that lead to the ship's galley before Hayes finally stopped to give him a questioning look.

"Do you need something, sir?"

"I'm coming with you," Malcolm said in a tone that he hoped left no room for questions.

"Do you think that's a good idea?"

"Yes, I do." Malcolm straightened his shoulders, fully prepared to be as obstinate as he needed to be, but his wince when he leaned a bit too hard on his leg ruined the effect. "I need the exercise and you can't continue to do everything that needs to be done on your own."

"I think you should work up to it." Hayes looked and sounded calm, but Malcolm could see the way the muscle in his jaw had tightened, like he was preparing himself for a fight.

"I do consider this working up to it, Major," Malcolm said, ignoring the ache he could already feel working its way up his thigh. "And I refuse to continue spending my time limping around the sickbay when I could at least attempt to actually be useful."

"You're not going to be useful if you re-injure yourself."

"And I'll be even less useful if I lose my mind from having to spend all my time in the same bloody room."

Hayes was quiet for so long that Malcolm thought he might just turn and walk away without another word, but he took a step closer and offered Malcolm his arm instead. "I could use some help with the comms. You probably have more experience with them than I do."

There was a part of Malcolm that wanted to argue just for the sake of it. He ignored it and gave Hayes a terse nod and a grateful look as he took his arm. "Let's see what we can do, then."

\--

Malcolm didn't manage much that day, the Ikaaran systems just different enough to make them difficult to parse. Hoshi or T'Pol probably would have had them figured out in a few hours, but even with Hayes relaying what little he'd managed to figure out, Malcolm didn't manage much more than giving himself a headache.

After a few hours, Hayes helped him back to the sickbay. He didn't comment on the way Malcolm winced with each step or how his limp had grown more pronounced over the course of the day; Malcolm was grateful enough that he finished off his rations and stretched out on one of the room's beds without complaint.

Hayes was equally silent as he ate and then moved over to Malcolm, helping him remove his pants so he could inspect his leg. The only outwardly visible sign that he'd been recently injured was the angry red scar marring the skin of his thigh.

"It looks like it's healing well, all things considered."

"Better than I expected." Hayes looked up at him and shrugged. "How's your pain level?"

"Not bad," Malcolm said. He winced as Hayes pressed at the skin around the scar and tried not to pull away. "I could probably do with some painkillers later, though."

Hayes looked a little surprised by the admission, but refrained from commenting. He laid his hands on Malcolm's leg just above the knee and pressed down carefully, trying to work some of the tension from his muscles.

Malcolm watched him, impressed as always by the efficient way he approached everything. "You're rather good at all this, Major. Better than most non-medical personnel that I've seen."

Hayes kept his attentions focused on his hands, frowning in concentration. "I trained as a medic for awhile when I was younger."

"Really?" Malcolm couldn't quite keep the curiosity out of his voice. "What made you stop?"

Hayes shrugged, meeting Malcolm's eyes briefly. "I'm better at combat. It made sense to focus my attention where I could be more useful."

"I'd say your medical training has been rather useful to me and my leg," Malcolm said, hesitating a moment before adding, "I should probably apologize."

"For what?"

"I'm afraid I don't make a very good patient."

Hayes was silent for a moment, his expression thoughtful before he offered Malcolm a brief smile. "I may have noticed." 

Malcolm let out a surprised laugh. "I suppose I deserve that."

Hayes shrugged. "Maybe. I can't say I'd be any better in your place, though."

"Yes, well. I barely managed to pass basic medical training, so let's hope we never have to find out." 

"That sounds like the better option."

\--

They were two weeks into their time aboard the Ikaaran ship when Malcolm realized, much to his own dismay, that he was slowly becoming accustomed to their daily routines. He still didn't particularly enjoy a lot of them--the food or the long silences or the static buzz of the comms in his ear for countless hours every day--but he was learning to tolerate them. They were predictable, at least. Something to focus on that wasn't the uncertainty of rescue or the vast emptiness around them.

There were even parts of their life here that he was actually starting to enjoy, if only a little--the uninterrupted view of the stars from the small starboard observation deck, the way that he and Hayes were slowly learning to read one another and work as a team, the shower in the captain's quarters that had actual running water instead of the horrible sonics found throughout the rest of the ship.

Part of Malcolm resented being able to find pleasure in any part of this situation, but the more indulgent part of his mind just didn't care. If a shower every few days helped him drive out some of his natural pessimism and allowed him to stop worrying about their lack of success in contacting Enterprise--or any other vessel, for that matter--then he could learn to live with that.

The only part of it that he couldn't seem to reason away was how much he looked forward to the nightly massages that Hayes gave his leg before they made their way to their separate beds.

It wasn't the fact that he got a bit of a thrill out of them that bothered him. He'd always prided himself on his ability to recognize and acknowledge when he was attracted to someone, and he'd thought that the Major was handsome even when he still hated him. He was only human, after all. 

What bothered him was that it wasn't something he enjoyed purely on a physical level; the feeling of closeness and companionship that came with them was almost enough on its own, and that thought scared him.

He'd always thought of himself as someone who enjoyed but didn't actually need much in the way of physical contact, that it was something he was content taking when offered, but not that he craved. He was starting to think that he might have been wrong.

Hayes was more quiet than usual that night, a slight crease between his brows as he worked a knot out of Malcolm's thigh. 

Malcolm watched Hayes, feeling relaxed and lazy, letting his guard down further than he normally found comfortable. He'd started sleeping in one of the empty crew quarters a few nights before, unable to tolerate spending his nights on a bio bed now that it was no longer necessary. It was nice, falling asleep somewhere a bit less sterile, but it made things with Hayes seem even more personal than before.

"What are you thinking?"

Hayes looked at him, his expression carefully neutral, and Malcolm almost regretted saying anything. "What?"

"You seem to be lost in thought," Malcolm said, starting to feel a bit silly. "I was just curious what you were thinking."

Hayes ran his thumb over the scar on Malcolm's leg and stared at him. After a moment he nodded, almost to himself, and seemed to reach some sort of decision. "My niece's birthday is tomorrow."

"Really?" Malcolm pushed himself up on his elbows and hoped he didn't look too eager. "I didn't know you had any nieces or nephews."

"Just one. Christy. She lives with my sister in Indiana." Hayes stopped, looked at Malcolm's face like he was searching for something, then continued, "I recorded a birthday message for her a few days before we received that distress call, but I was waiting until we were somewhere with more reliable subspace communications to send it."

"I'm sure she'll understand if it's late."

"She will." Hayes smiled, the expression tired and his voice hinting at an underlying bitterness. "I just hope someone sends it for me if we don't make it back."

"I'm sure they will." Malcolm reached down, covering one of Hayes's hands with his own and giving it what he hoped was a quick, reassuring squeeze.

Hayes looked like he might say something, but he gave Malcolm's thigh a quick squeeze and pulled his hand away instead. "I should let you go to sleep."

"Of course." Malcolm cleared his throat and sat up, reaching for the blanket at the foot of his bed. "Goodnight, Major."

Hayes stood, but remained next to the bed. "It's just the two of us here. You can call me Jay, if you want."

"Jay," Malcolm repeated, wrinkling his nose a little. "That may take some getting used to."

"Major is fine, too."

Malcolm nodded, watching Hayes turn and walk away. He waited until he was almost gone to call out to him. "Goodnight, Jay."

Hayes paused in the doorway and turned to look at him. "Goodnight, Malcolm."

Malcolm found himself staring at the empty doorway until he fell asleep.

\--

Three weeks on board the Ikaaran ship, and Malcolm was starting to loathe the sight of the communications console.

He and Hayes had come to the mutual decision that it was best for each of them to devote their time to tasks that they had at least some small hope of accomplishing. Hayes spent his time going over the computer's star charts and scouring nearby space, hoping to find a friendly outpost or ship or, at the very least, some sign of life nearby. Malcolm was left to fiddle with the ship's communications, flipping through different frequencies and trying to figure out a way to boost their signal enough that they might stand a chance of someone hearing one of their messages.

Which was all good in theory, but in practice it meant that just walking to the bridge in the morning was enough to sour Malcolm's mood. It didn't help matters that Hayes seemed equally affected by their lack of progress, which lead to days spent hunched over their respective read-outs, wallowing in a mutual, sullen silence.

Malcolm removed the ear piece and threw it down on the console with a sound of frustration. He used to be almost fond of the sounds that the stars made, had found them beautiful, but now it was hard to think of them as anything but noise. They no longer made him think of the adventure or possibility awaiting him in far-flung corners of the universe; they were just another cold reminder of the emptiness around them and how little hope there was that they'd manage to find their way home again.

"Is everything okay?" Hayes looked calm and Malcolm resented him for it, wished that the other man had the courtesy to show some of the frustration that Malcolm knew he was feeling.

"No, it's not." Malcolm leaned back in his chair and ran his hands over his face, trying not to direct his anger at Hayes. "We're on a broken ship, light years away from any sign of life, let alone civilization, with very little hope of contacting anyone and even less hope of rescue. I'd say nothing is okay."

Hayes was silent, eyes trained on Malcolm, waiting to see what he'd do next.

"My apologies." Malcolm took a deep breath and felt himself deflate, the edges of his anger suddenly less sharp. "I've been trying very hard not to be a doomsayer or wallow in my own pessimism, but I'm having trouble imagining how we're going to get out of this one."

"We probably aren't."

Malcolm scowled. "That's not very helpful."

"Maybe not, but it's the truth," Hayes said, like they were talking about the weather or what wine to have with dinner and not contemplating their own mortality. "You're right. We probably won't make it out of this."

"Still not helpful." 

"I don't think lying would help, either." Hayes shrugged and looked unapologetic. "And knowing that we probably won't make it out of here doesn't mean I want to just stop trying."

"Neither do I. I think I just need a moment to feel sorry for myself." Malcolm laughed, and it sounded more resigned than sad. "But then you had to go and say something inspiring and ruin it."

"I could talk about all the ways we could die out here instead, if you want."

"Maybe later," Malcolm said, hitting the standby switch and then standing. "Right now, I want to see if there's anything that passes for alcohol on this ship, and then I want to get drunk and try to forget about all of this."

Hayes switched off the navigation display and stood with him. "Do you want some company?"

Malcolm smiled and motioned for him to follow. "I do hate to drink alone."

\--

Malcolm was somewhat relieved to find that, not only was there something akin to alcohol aboard the ship, most of it hidden at the bottom of a closet in the captain's quarters, but also that it actually smelled and tasted pleasant. The Ikaarans seemed to have much higher standards for alcohol than food.

They ended up on the observation deck, sitting at the room's lone table, staring out at the stars. They didn't bother with cups, drinking straight out of a bottle that they shared between them.

"I may have to give up rations and switch to this instead," Malcolm said, a pleasant warmth in his stomach as he passed the bottle to Hayes. "I never would have imagined something that shade of blue would taste like that. Especially not after having eaten what the Ikaarans think passes for food."

"It's very blue," Hayes agreed, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. He rested the bottle against the table and stared out the window, eyes moving back and forth as he tracked the stars. "And the rations here are awful."

"I knew it." Malcolm elbowed him in the side, laughing a little at the surly look Hayes gave him as he leaned out of the way. "You hate the food as much as I do. You were just pretending that you didn't so I would look bad."

Hayes offered the bottle back to him, looking unimpressed. "No one could possibly hate them as much as you do, Malcolm."

"I have a feeling that Commander Tucker might prove you wrong if he were here," Malcolm said. He took another drink and turned his attention back to the stars. "I like it when you call me Malcolm."

Malcolm didn't really expect a response to that, so the silence that followed didn't surprise him. He leaned back in his chair and let himself enjoy the moment, the easy warmth that came with sharing a drink with a friend. 

"Malcolm."

Malcolm turned to find Hayes leaning toward him, a look on his face that Malcolm couldn't remember having seeing before. "Yes, Major?"

Hayes's hand on his face felt natural, the way that he leaned in and pressed their lips together almost familiar. Malcolm reached up, curled a hand around the back of Hayes's neck and kissed him back. It was a slow kiss, thorough and almost thoughtful, like they were both trying to drag the moment out, hold onto it for later.

When they finally pulled apart, Hayes's lower lip was swollen, and Malcolm was a bit short of breath.

Malcolm touched his hand to his mouth and sat back, smiling. "You could have done that two weeks ago, you know."

"You could have asked," Hayes said, his expression open in a way that made Malcolm want to spend more time kissing him, just to see if he could keep it that way. 

"I'm not very good at asking for things." Malcolm surprised himself a little with the admission, but he refused to think about it too much and ruin things. "But for the record, I'd rather not wait to have sex."

Hayes laughed. "How does right now sound?"

"Brilliant," Malcolm said, reaching for the sides of Hayes's face and pulling him in for another kiss.

\--

The floor of the observation deck was not an ideal place to fall asleep after a night of drinking, Malcolm decided. Not even if it meant waking up with Hayes curled around him, his breath warm on the back of Malcolm's neck.

It was a situation he would have appreciated if they'd been on a bed or a couch or anything that didn't involve lying half-naked on cold parasteel. He groaned and pulled away from Hayes, sitting up and rubbing absently at his thigh while he tried to make sense of the current situation.

Hayes made an unhappy noise but sat up beside him, lines from the floor pressed into his cheek, but otherwise looking more put-together than should have been possible after so much booze and so little sleep. "Morning."

"Good morning," Malcolm said, rubbing a hand over his face. "This is a bit awkward, isn't it?"

"A little." Hayes stood and offered him a hand.

Malcolm took it and stood, bending his leg in an effort to work out some of the stiffness. "I suppose we should have some breakfast."

"Rations, not whiskey," Hayes said, looking serious.

"I liked you better last night." Malcolm picked Hayes's shirt up off the floor and handed it to him, and they got dressed in companionable silence.

\--

Malcolm started to lose track of time after they hit the four week mark, one day blending into the next until he wasn't quite sure how long it had been since they'd heard voices or seen faces that weren't their own.

They stuck to the routines they'd set for themselves, ate bad rations and spent their days on the bridge, looking and listening for something that Malcolm was fairly sure couldn't be found. On most nights, they said goodnight and went to separate rooms. On other nights, Hayes stayed and Malcolm woke up in the morning with Hayes's breath on his neck. It continued to be a bit awkward, but that was starting to become part of their routine, too.

"I wish I'd gone to Rome one last time before we left Earth," Malcolm said, directing his comments at the view screen. They were halfway through another uneventful day spent on the bridge, and he had the comm line open, the hum of the stars little more than background noise. 

Hayes was across the room at the navigational console, sifting through logs and charts. Malcolm suspected it was more out of habit than any real hope that he'd find something he'd managed to overlook the first dozen times. "I've never been to Rome."

"We used to visit every summer when I was a child." Malcolm crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the view screen, his voice wistful. "It's a beautiful city. Dreadful humidity, but I think I might actually miss that."

"I miss weather in general," Hayes said. "Especially rain." 

Malcolm turned to look at him, surprised. "Really?"

"Is there something surprising about that?"

"No, I just--I never stopped to think about whether or not you liked the rain." Malcolm smiled, a dozen questions right there on the tip of his tongue, but there was a faint crackle on the comm before he could ask. He leaned forward to adjust the settings, chasing the signal, not really expecting to find anything except more static.

"--come in. This is the Earth vessel, Enterprise--"

Malcolm froze, his hand hovering over the controls. "Do you hear that?"

Hayes stood and crossed the room, his expression stunned. "Can you send a message back?"

"I'm trying," Malcolm said, making frantic adjustments, trying to hold onto the signal.

"--looking for an Ikaaran vessel that may be stranded in the area. We believe two of our crew members may be aboard. If anyone has seen this vessel, please respond."

Malcolm fumbled for the transmit button, his fingers shaking. "Enterprise, come in. This is Lieutenant Malcolm Reed. Can you hear me?"

There was a brief pause and a crackle of static. Malcolm had a few seconds to wonder if they were out of range or their comms were broken, if they were going to come this close to rescue and still end up dying there. But then Hoshi answered him, the relief in her voice palpable.

"Malcolm? Is that really you?"

"Yes, Ensign, it's me," Malcolm said. "It's good to hear your voice."

"Yours too." Hoshi laughed, and Malcolm was struck with a wave of homesickness so strong it was almost painful. "I'm glad you're alright, sir. Is Major Hayes there with you?"

"Standing right next to me."

There was a short silence, followed by a crackle and another voice that Malcolm had never thought he'd hear again.

"Malcolm, this is Captain Archer. If you'd be so kind as to give us your coordinates, we'll swing by and pick you up."

Malcolm looked up at Hayes and smiled. "I think we can manage that, sir."

\--

They spent the evening on the observation deck having an impromptu celebration, a blanket spread out on the floor beneath them and the remaining bottles of Ikaaran whiskey to share. After they finished off the first bottle, Malcolm pushed Hayes onto his back and divested them both of their clothes, made a game of seeing how long it took to make him fall apart.

Afterwards, they laid on their backs, side by side, and stared up at the ceiling. It was the same dull grey as the ceiling in the sickbay, but Malcolm didn't mind it so much anymore.

"Two more weeks and we'll be back in our own beds. It's a bit hard to believe." Malcolm turned his head to stare at Hayes's profile. "What's the first thing you're going to do, once we're back?"

"Report to sickbay, probably. I'm sure the doctor will want to run some tests."

"You know what I meant," Malcolm said. "After all the meetings and debriefings and everything we have to do. What's the first thing you're going to do for yourself?"

"Ask Chef for a piece of cake."

Malcolm laughed. "I never took you for a cake man."

"Probably just a small piece." Hayes turned to look at him, finally. "What about you?"

"Eat something. I don't even care what it is at this point, so long as it doesn't taste of dust. And I'd like to go to movie night again, too." Malcolm drummed his fingers against his stomach and stared at Hayes, expression turning thoughtful. "You could come with me, you know."

"To movie night?"

"I did promise to save you a seat." Malcolm shrugged and turned his face back toward the ceiling. "It's yours if you want it."

Hayes was quiet for a beat. "I guess that depends on what's playing."

"Judging by previous selections, it's most likely something you've never heard of, that stands a decent chance of being awful."

"Sounds nice," Hayes said, sounding completely sincere. "I guess that means my answer is yes."

"I'm going to hold you to that," Malcolm said, smiling up at the ceiling.


End file.
